FREDERICK WENTWORTH
“Shit,” Freddie mumbled to himself. He’d forgotten to tell his assistant to cancel the car reservation, that he’d just get a yellow cab into the city, maybe order an Uber. Anything that didn’t make him feel like a visitor to his own town.
He gave the driver a tight smile and a nod, then followed him out the terminal’s sliding glass doors. When they reached the curb and Freddie saw the gleaming Suburban waiting, he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He had cropped it a few years ago, but that didn’t mean the habit of pushing it out of his face was gone, especially when he was frustrated.
But the minute the driver opened the back door and Freddie slid into the car’s plush interior, a bit of his annoyance dissolved.After a cross-country red-eye flight, he was exhausted and needed to sink into the leather seat to relax—he had to admit that a yellow cab wouldn’t have cut it.
The car pulled away from the curb, sliding into traffic as they joined the expressway headed toward Manhattan. It was elevated, cutting right across Queens, and Freddie studied the low buildings packed close together on a never-ending grid of streets below. Growing up, he hadn’t been privy to this view—he only knew his old neighborhood through the lenses of subway stops and the passenger seat of his dad’s plumbing van. Even then, it was side roads, back alleys. His first time on the expressway had been when he left the city eight years ago with only a couple of duffel bags and a one-way ticket to Buenos Aires. Now he was back, but this time in a chauffeured car and wearing a suit that cost more than his student loans.
Would that kid even recognize him now? Probably not, and the clothes wouldn’t be the only reason why. New York was his hometown, and he never would have guessed he would stay away for so long, even if it was due to building his own business.
Still, regardless of how successful he was, how his budget travel had been upgraded to first class, the monotony of living out of a suitcase had become too much. So had the corporate meetings, the investor lunches, the suits and small talk. He needed some downtime to figure out what came next.
He needed New York.
The thought almost made him laugh—the idea that New York would offer a respite from the breakneck speed of the past few years showed how insane his life had become.
His phone pinged in his jacket pocket. He pulled it out and saw a text from his Realtor waiting.
BIRDIE CARRINGTON
Two bedroom in the East Village with views of the river! What’s not to love? Still on for noon today? This really is the one.
Freddie smiled to himself. Birdie had said that about the last thirty apartments they had viewed. After he sold his company and decided to move back to the city, his friend Will had introduced him to his aunt, Birdie Carrington, the owner of Carrington Realty. She had taken Freddie under her wing to ensure, as she put it, “he returned home to a truehome.” Meanwhile, he just wanted to find a place so his mom would stop guilt-tripping him to stay at their house in Queens.
FREDDIE
I’ll be there. I think Sophie will be too.
Three dots appeared on-screen, then vanished, only to pop back up again. Freddie could practically see his Realtor cringing at the mention of his sister.
BIRDIE CARRINGTON
Great.
A moment later, she sent a link to the address. He clicked it and his smile abruptly faded. The building was on Avenue A across from Tompkins Square Park. He hadn’t been down in that neighborhood for years.
Not that you were ever invited there to begin with, he reminded himself. He quickly closed out of his messages.
He had spent the past eight years avoiding all thoughts of Anne Elliot; he wasn’t about to start down memory lane now that he was back. For the first time in years, he felt free, and he refused to let the past change that.
His phone pinged with another text.
He looked down, ready to see another message from Birdie, but saw one from his mother instead.
MOM
Your sister just called to tell me you two are looking at an apartment together today?
Then another ping.
MOM
YOU TOLD ME YOU WERE COMING IN TOMORROW
And another.
MOM
